


different.

by starsandskies



Series: less than a thousand words [destiel] [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: But not explicit, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Sex, post-season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandskies/pseuds/starsandskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex isn't the same any more. Not since Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	different.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by season 9 episode 9.

Sex was never just sex for Dean. It imprinted his soul and _touched_ him every time.

Lisa made him love her and she made him crave her. It was this never ending cycle of pulling and wanting and half-lidded eyes and drunken words tumbling out of yearning lips.

She was the worst.

Until _him_.

Castiel crashed and burned and fell to Earth and dragged Dean with him. They both suffocated each other with hedonism and sin and desire that it was difficult to breathe. Dean only knew how to survive as long as he was breathing Castiel in, _all of him_ , and he only did that when he was allowed to, when he couldn’t fucking take it anymore and it almost felt like dying when he couldn’t.

Because of Castiel, Dean only knew how to exist when he was wanted by him, when Castiel was reaching into his body and claiming his soul. The man was a vice around his lungs, one that he didn’t want to live without.

Everything about Castiel was utter brilliance. The way he pressed kisses to Dean’s collarbones and the dips in his body and the scars on his skin and the freckles across his nose, the way _he loved and loved and loved_ , the way he made Dean feel _human_. Alive.

In some ways, Dean missed Castiel’s grace, he missed the way things used to get done quicker but now he had to work for it, he had to make things happen. But that wasn’t difficult to do, not when Castiel was always just so _ready_ , always willing to be marked. Dean didn’t know how he did it, how Cas always managed to get himself into such a bother all the time but he didn’t mind it. Not when big blue eyes were staring up at him, silently pleading.

Dean did what was asked of him, he worked Castiel’s body over, rubbing circles into his skin and kissing the parts of him that needed it. They moved with each other, their bodies sliding against one another as Dean held onto Castiel, fingers pressing into sides and words getting lost amidst moans and heavy breathing. Castiel usually let go first, his body trembling under Dean’s fingertips whose mouth moved against Cas’ with reverence, whispering truths as he fell apart alongside him. 

For both of them, sex was so different when it was with each other. Castiel touched Dean purposefully, like he was made of the finest porcelain and he didn’t want to drop him. Dean made sure Castiel felt _saved_ when he ran his fingers through tousled hair and down sharp hipbones. He thought that the best thing wasn’t even the sex, it was the fact that he didn’t have to say goodbye.

Dean was able to close his eyes only to open them a few hours later to find Castiel still there. He would have his head nestled against Dean’s chest or his arms wrapped around him, his breathing even and steady, coming out in little puffs.

Once, it was two in the morning, yet Dean woke up, tired and bleary eyed. Cas had his back to him, his entire body away from him. It was too much space and it reminded Dean of lonely days and even lonelier nights. He sighed and placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, shaking him gently.

“Cas,” he whispered, his voice too loud for the quiet room.

Castiel yawned and turned to face him, “what is it?”

Dean said nothing and Cas’ eyes changed from annoyance to compassion as he saw Dean holding his arms open. He smiled lazily and shuffled closer to him, wrapping himself up in safety and warmth. They never spoke of that night again (yet Castiel knew to always stay close) but it was the closest thing Dean had ever gotten to saying _I love you_. 

Both men moved against each other differently now, like they had _time_. It wasn’t as desperate anymore, it wasn’t as frenzied. Dean left his fingerprints all over Castiel, both inside and out, and touched his very soul.

Everything was different now, it was all perfect. 


End file.
